


Constellation

by Amethystawakening



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Ed being cheesy, Ed is bad at comforting, Ed musing, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Gertrude Cobblepot's (mentioned), M/M, Relationship Study, Sassy, Self Analysis, Similes, can you tell I love future fic??, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 04:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13651521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethystawakening/pseuds/Amethystawakening
Summary: Oswald was a universe of a man, vast and infinite. Burning bright like a red giant, making others cower before him with the flames of a supernova. Or fading away like a white dwarf, dwindling down with the weight of insecurities only to fall into deep black holes of despair.Ed finds beauty in a distraught Oswald.





	Constellation

**Author's Note:**

> This was sitting in my drafts so here.

He could connect the dots and form constellations. Oswald was a universe of a man, vast and infinite. Burning bright like a red giant, making others cower before him with the flames of a supernova. Or fading away like a white dwarf, dwindling down with the weight of insecurities only to fall into deep black holes of despair. 

Ed often wished that he could be as otherworldly. But, he supposed, if there were others like Oswald, then perhaps he would lose his sense of wonder.

 

The singular most amazing quality held by Oswald Cobblepot was, despite the collage of emotions that would dance behind those magnificent green eyes, Oswald was _unyieldingly powerful_. Oswald Cobblepot knew exactly who he was. Something that Edward, despite his great expanse of intelligence and creativity, had been struggling with for a long time.

 

He continued to trace lines between the vast sky of freckles along Oswald's shoulder as he stared at the back of Oswald's head. Sometimes he desired nothing more than to open up the lovely little head and unfold that beautiful mind like a flower, one petal at a time.

 

He had often thought about the chemical construct of Oswald's brain, the type of analysis only a high quality brain scan or biopsy would tell. The kaleidoscope of patterns that dictated the ratio of logic to emotions, and all other things on the cerebral spectrum.

The morbid part of his consciousness longed to dissect that wondrous mind.

 

He heard a soft sniffle and a muted sob wring from the man beside him and imagined Oswald’s face. Nose red, eyes ringed and raw, cheeks speckled with salted tears. _Beautiful_.

 

It was _that_ time of year. 

Sorrow stricken. The deep abyss that tore at Oswald's flesh and fill lungs with water until his body was too heavy to float above the waves. Drowning slowly, torturously, until all elements of solace were completely dissolved.

 

      _Gertrude  Cobblepot's death day._

 

Ed stroked an unkempt head softly. He pressed a careful kiss atop of one freckled shoulder and lifted the satin of the robe from where it fell to lay upon Oswald's bicep.

When it came to matters of the mind, Oswald was bold, unafraid, unyieldingly. He could easily cut a larger man down to size. But when it came to matters of the heart Oswald was shy, timid and uncertain; a beautiful paradox of a man.

 

Ed knew this deep sorrow. He knew, he knew, _he knew it so well_. In a crowded room in a small apartment, years ago, Ed had picked up Oswald's pieces.

And here he was again, drawn by the red string of fate, to Oswald. I started as a truce, grew tentatively into a friendship and was budding into a slowly blooming romance.

Ed drew himself to Oswald, snaking one arm around his slight waist, curling around him as if to absorb him into his being.

 

“She loved you” _I love you._ “She would not wish to see you like this...” 

 

Silence. And a feeble sniffle.

 

“Wasting away, hallow like a tree infested with parasites.” He hissed morbidly into Oswald’s ear. “Once you surrender to the beasts there is no going back. They eat you from the inside.” He rubbed slow circles into Oswald's scalp, a soothingly rhythmic touch that contrasted such harsh words.

 

“What do you know, what’d she want?” A shaky bitter voice echoes back from the withering abyss in his arms.

 

It was true, Ed did not have the luxury of forming a loving relationship with his parents. He was eager to leave the nest far before he was ready to fly.

“I know _you_ , and it doesn't suit you to look so _pathetic_.”

 

The warmth was torn away from him. Oswald sloppily ripped himself from the embrace, not bothering to turn and look upon Ed’s face.

“Don't touch me.” A venomous growl reverberated through his bones.

 

Ed was new to _this_. Deep inhibited love; messy, cumbersome and burdened with both of their sins.

       He and Oswald were so alike but so different. A miraculous balance; _folie à deux_.

“I’m sorry,” a hushed rush of words. He was never very good at apologizing.

 

He reached for Oswald again, drawing him near, turning him forcefully so their eyes could meet.

“I didn't mean to be so harsh. You have every right to grieve.”

 

Five years hadn't filled the hole in Oswald's heart.

Dark ringed eyes rose to search Ed’s face. And eerie silence hung between them.

 

Ed finally spoke, “I am not alive but seem so, because I dance and breathe with no legs or lungs of my own. What am I?”

 

Oswald did not looked pleased in the slightest. “Are you fucking serious?” A spark lit in those dull eyes.

 

“A flame.” A small smile curled in the corner of Ed’s lips. “It looks like I’ve fanned yours.” He snuck a quick peck to Oswald's lips.

 

“Has anyone told you that you look breathtaking when you're angry?”

 

Oswald opened his mouth to speak paused, seemingly to taken aback to form any words.

“I hoped not. I’d have to kill them.”

 

“You're _infuriating_.” Oswald shoved him, more playfully than anything, despite the convincing sneer on his face.

 

“I mean, you wear sorrow beautifully as well. But it's not a good look on you. It’s lacking that stylistic flare.”

 

Oswald rolled on his stomach and buried his face in a pillow. “I don't know why I put up with this.”

 

“Because you love me.” Ed tested, waiting for the wrath of the storm.

They had not yet uttered those three sacred words since they had fallen back into each other's lives.

 

Oswald raised his head quickly. “Don't put words into my mouth.” He spat defensively. “If you want to hear _that_ , you have to earn it.” He pressed a finger tip into Ed’s chest, haughty eyes boring into his soul.

 

“I wasn't in aware that was in the job description,” Ed teased, ever so talented at avoiding confrontation with his tangled feelings. This was a healthy conversation. One they _should_ have. But he wasn't prepared to delve into those murky waters yet. There were small milestones to me made first.

 

“Is that a problem?” Oswald sassed, eyes solemn and inquiring.

 

“No, I’m not one to back down from a challenge.” Ed leaned in so the heat of his words could be traced on Oswald's lips. It was in his blood to turn this into a game. But that did not make it any less important to him. “Especially if my prize is you.”

He and Oswald were destined to be intertwined, the universe had whispered into his ears again and again. This time he knew the reality of it.

 

“I’m not a prize.” The retort lacked the vicious finesse Ed was accustomed to, laced instead with mild irritation.

 

“No, you're a treasure.” Ed smiled smugly, stealing another quick kiss.

 

Oswald bit the tip of his nose. “You're making a troubling case.” He laughed for the first time in days. “But I’ll take it into consideration.” Oswald sighed in mock exasperation. “Especially since you are also a very rare find.” He ran his fingers throw Ed’s hair. Their faces were mere inches apart. “But I'm not going to call myself lucky just yet.”

 

Confessing so soon was a liability for both of them. There was still damage that needed to be repaired. But that was a task for another day. Right now they spoke in riddled affection, soft songs teetering on the edge of unadulterated love.

 

This time it was Oswald who sought a soft, quick kiss.

There was a dip in the bed and a rustle of fabric as Ed pulled the thick comforter over Oswald. He rose, joints creaking in a gratifying stretch.

 

“Where are you going?” Oswald peeked from beneath the blankets that had been drawn up to his chin.

 

Ed ruffled his hair. “To make you breakfast. It's no good to grieve on an empty stomach. And I have to be diligent if I am to woo you properly.”

 

“You're ridiculous.” A little smile was peaking from beneath the heavy mask of sorrow.

Green eyes speckled with a field of stars shining beneath of the gaps of a hazy nebula.

 

“Says the man who is making me work for it.” Ed placed a hand on his hip, voice dripping with affectionate sass.

 

Oswald beckoned him forward with the curl of a finger and hastily, pulled him down by the collar of his pajama shirt as soon as he was in reach. Lips slotted together in a slow, heedy kiss.

 

Ed rested their foreheads together so their breath mingled in warm whisps.

“Why do I put up with you?”

 

Oswald smiled coyly. “Because you love me.”

 

“Hah.”

He and Oswald were so alike, yet so different, like the sun and the moon. Both otherworldly in their own celestial makeup.

 

He kissed Oswald's forehead; lips curled against his skin in a little smile. “We’ll see about that.”

 


End file.
